i fucking literally had fifty ideas for this while i was at work i fucking hate my brain and the way my supervisor breathes down our necks like he's paying us out of his son's college fund or his fucking toupe savings jar and i hate the way inspiration for my writing and my photos and my pathetic life only seems to strike when i'm stuffing wadding or setting core or some other menial repetitive task that never seems to end

why is it that when i have all the time and all the resources and all the freedom, my mind shuts me out. who do you think you are?